


Temper, Temper

by Slipperdeedoo



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Bad Eating Habits, Light Dom/sub, Other, POV Second Person, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Reader is gn, Unhealthy Relationships, they're both switches but, unhealthy mindsets, v minor but still, violent intent (though no one gets hurt)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28422579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slipperdeedoo/pseuds/Slipperdeedoo
Summary: You have a crappy day and try your best not to take it out on Mammon; He doesn't mind seeing his goody two shoes human mad, though he'd definitely prefer to see you happy. He definitely enjoys distracting you from lashing out- even when it's accidental.
Relationships: Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101





	Temper, Temper

You’d always had a nasty temper. Physically lashing out was something that plagued your childhood playtimes, but you’d since worked hard to overcome that flaw. Though your fuse was short, lighting it was something that took extreme effort. 

Not for lack of effort on the Devildom’s, however- particularly Mammon’s. He didn’t try to upset you, he just had terrible timing and even worse luck. Often whenever you had dealt with a long, long day, he just managed to come crashing in, saying something tone deaf that was just enough to crack your emotional dam. 

Mammon was quite used to this kind of treatment from Lucifer; he’d find out about some previous transgression or would simply pick at him whenever Mammon caught him on a bad day. 

There was something almost cute about their human exchange student giving him a countdown as a warning, in contrast. As if they could hurt him. As if he needed a warning. 

How charming it was didn’t stop him from running off. Eons of pissing off his brothers, money lenders, and witches had honed his flight instinct into something sharp and very easily triggered. It didn’t stop him, however, from wheeling back around to check on you, even as his heart hammered in his chest. 

Sometimes you’d be in the same place he left you- hunched over with your hands over your eyes as you tried to get yourself back together. On those days, he tries to give you enough time to recompose before coming back to tease you again, or to distract you with something he found on his ‘jog’. 

Other days, you were gone and the door to your room was locked. The pipes in the wall of the hallway rattling from hot water. Cons of house of Lamentation: it was a terrible snitch when its occupants knew each other well. 

You anger was almost captivating to Mammon. You were so damn nice and forgiving, your angelic heritage had hardly been surprising when it had been revealed. He and his brothers often forgot you both had your limits and actively worked to be kind. 

Yes, you were descended from Lilith. But you were far, far more human than angelic. And the truth of it was, as much as many wanted to claim outside influence, humans were as capable of evil as anything demonic. You, yourself could cause massive harm (even with the best of intentions) even before your pacts with the brothers. Now, with the power you held, that was something you yourself could not let yourself ignore. 

It was a moral grandstanding Mammon was almost tempted to compare to Lucifer’s pride; it was something that wore at you and caused you to bottle your emotions, and at the worst, let them fester. 

He couldn’t help wanting to poke at you and see if he could make that rigid morality relax- even for a second. You knew you couldn’t hurt him if it came to blows, and he knew that as well. There was something …appetizing about his sweet human having a dark desire he could tempt them with. 

One day, for a second, he thought you’d fallen to it. 

That one day was miserable from the start; You’d stayed up late finishing homework for R.A.D., causing you to oversleep, earning you a lecture from Lucifer when he passed you by in the hall- never mind the sprint you’d had to do with a cranky Belphegor to slide into class on time. 

So you had to deal with the feeling of being sticky and, likely, smelling foul to your classmates- even with the fact that you had- obviously- used deodorant before running out the door. Maybe that made it worse. 

Worse again, you’d gotten assignments back, paired with verbal commentary from your professor as they passed them back to you and your fellow students. You’d missed something obvious, delivered with a sneer and the telltale ripple of chuckles throughout the class; a glare from Asmodeus silenced it quick, but that and his reassuring hand on your shoulder did little to quell the humiliation and the sinking feeling in your gut. 

Exhausted, you’d skipped lunch in the dinning hall, electing to go over notes in the library instead. Despite trying your best to take concise notes during lecture, you failed to understand it outside of the professors preaching context. 

You were thankful when Beelzebub interrupted your frustrated stewing with lunch; he always did his best to stock up, so he had plenty to share, he insisted. 

So you eat it, despite the initial sight and smell of food causing an uncontrollable feeling of nausea. It wasn’t the fact that it was devildom food that did it- you had this problem in the human world too. Despite trying not to gag as you eat, you still manage to chew your food as Beel ruffles your hair. You barely manage to keep from tearing up then and there. 

You’re thankful for the chance to regain composure as you work through the rest of the days classes, especially knowing you’re likely going to have a fruitless conversation with Lucifer later. 

It was deeply frustrating to you both- and maybe _one day_ you’d be able to fully articulate just what was stopping you- but for now you both had to struggle with the gut knowledge that, while you were more than capable of pulling off assignments and doing well at R.A.D., something just _wasn’t working._

Lucifer would only give you the same old tired advice. 

And you’d try your best to follow it, like you’d been doing your entire life, only to fail. It was like slamming your head into a wall repeatedly to get through it, knowing there was a gently sloped ramp that carried everyone else over the wall- but you couldn’t see or touch the ramp. 

You only left R.A.D. when it was incredibly late; only after any student council meetings and after long and frustrating lectures from Lucifer- which only turned into a proper (and just as frustrating) study session when he’d noticed how hard you’d been trying to hold it together. 

You’d gotten Incredibly lucky when he’d been called away by lord Diavolo, and luckier again that Mammon was closer to the school than any of the brothers- fresh off work and willing to walk you home. 

You rubbed the heels of your hands over your eyes as you walked with him, trying hard to focus and not be annoyed by his chatter. You hated it; how angry you felt for no damn reason other than he was there, anywhere near you, that he was talking. 

The shame and confusion that rode on its coattails and stoppered your throat didn’t help much either; it just caused it to circle back to anger; this time, at yourself. 

You’d _wanted_ Mammon to walk you home in the first place. You’d wanted him close, to reassure you, to assuage your frayed nerves. 

You loved Mammon. And because you loved him, some part of you had hoped that he’d magically make everything better just by being there. 

You wanted to kick yourself for it; that wasn’t how it worked- that wasn’t how any of this worked. 

You couldn’t help trying to shake him off when he jostled you playfully. “Hey, hey, didn’t know our exchange student was a space cadet too,” he joked. 

You bit back a venomous retort by sliding a hand over mouth, shaking your head as you fixed your gaze off into the distance. 

That made Mammon pause, slowing his pace down a little as he gently squeezed your shoulder. “You okay?” 

You voice was rough when you answered, “Mammon, you’re going to need to run.” 

“Awh, shit. Really?” 

Your answer was more than enough to have him zipping off: “Ten.” 

Your voice was still ringing in his ears as he paused at the house of lamentation’s gate: Rough, and barely above a whisper. 

“Nine.” 

Gripping the bars of the gate, Mammon considered how far you were from home. If you were in a running mood, you’d probably made it to the sport’s practice field far behind R.A.D. If you were at a breaking point, you were probably curled up out of sight not far from where he’d left you. 

Out of sight might’ve been fine and dandy for hiding from other humans, but you wouldn’t stay hidden for long if any other demon walked by; Your scent was unmistakable, and anyone would be able to hear your cryin’ over the devildom’s nighttime noise- no matter how good you were at bein’ silent, your uneven breathing and elevated heart rate were a dead giveaway. 

And if some nobody decided they wanted to take a bite out of you… nah. No way. 

With his mind made up, it was easy to run back and find you again. 

Good news: you were in the sport field. 

Less good news: you were sprawled down face first in the turf, hands gripping the manicured grass. Your back heaved as you breathed, clearly panting from your emotional sprint. 

“Hey!” Mammon called. 

You mumbled something as he jogged up, deliberately slowing his pace so he wouldn’t spook you. 

Mammon was so caught up with the fact that you were here, in one piece, that even with his stellar demonic hearing, he missed what you said. “What? You’re gonna have t-”

He was not expecting you to launch your feet, grab him by the front of his uniform collar, hook your foot around his ankle, or to push him to the ground. 

On his Father, he was shocked enough to let you do it. His eyes as wide as dinner plates as his back hit the uncompromising ground. 

You weren’t graceful with your landing, but Mammon wasn’t going to complain about the position you had landed in; one hand still fisting his shirt, your opposite hand propping you up and over Mammon as you straddled him. 

Well- he wouldn’t complain much. If you’d let him. 

You were still out of breath as you repeated in a snarl, “ **_One_ **,” interrupting any flustered bravado he could have come up with. 

He swallowed his half-baked retort. 

He had no idea what you were going to do. 

Mammon didn’t think you did either. 

And Neither of you would find out. 

The fact that he was twitching against your stomach spoiled the moment. 

It spoiled the _angry_ moment anyway. You froze, realizing how hard he was, all the tension in the air dissolved with yours. 

You collapsed on his chest, laughing. The joyful, knowing look in your eyes makes him want to squirm. Flustered, he turned his head to the side, hiding from your gaze. It didn’t help that his cock was still twitching from all the friction you were accidentally giving him. 

“Really?” You ask; no shame or judgement in the question. It’s your turn to be shocked, now. Gently, you reach for him, cradling his jaw as you turn his face back towards yours. 

Even if he could swear his face would start actually burning, Mammon didn’t have much trouble lacing his fingers through yours to release his face from your grasp. Or leaning up just enough that you could feel his breath fanning across your mouth. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. 

You could tell he was still flustered. His kiss was short, but it was sweet and affirming. With just enough heat in it that, when Mammon pulled back, you chased his mouth for more. 

You release your grip on the front of Mammon’s uniform to pin his shoulder to the ground, leaning your weight into it. Both keep him still, and to get better leverage as you slot your mouth against his. 

Mammon doesn’t bother muffling that noises that escape him from sheer pleasure; you mouth works just fine. 

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you- muffled by Mammon’s mouth- in response to your lover’s groans. Mammon can feel tears dripping down his cheeks- there aren’t many, but it’s hard to miss. 

Mammon pulls back to cradle your face, thumbs swiping at the trailing down your cheeks. Funny. You hadn’t noticed you were crying, yet you can’t help how your breath stutters a little with the realization. 

“I can handle it, ya’ know.” He tells you. Reassures, rather. “Anything you can possibly dish out at your worst, isn’t going to do more than bruise me.” 

You know he’s exaggerating; you’ve seen him bleed from blunt force trauma the same as any human, and wince from it like any human. He could heal from it better than any human could but-   
“I know you’re a masochist, Mammon,” you chide him gently. “But that isn’t the kind of pain I want to give you.” 

He cocks an eyebrow, teasing even though his eyes are still gentle. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you respond, leaning back and grinding your sex against Mammon’s. 

You can’t keep yourself from grinning as you feel him tense under you, a strangled noise escaping him as you feel his cock twitch against you. You both bother doing anything to hide your pleased sigh. 

“I can’t be as harsh as I’d like, here, but,” You bite his neck, sucking at the mark hard as Mammon does nothing to stifle a moan. When you come up for air, leaving the new hickey with a kiss, you finish your thought breathlessly. “When we get back home I wouldn’t mind being harder on you. Safely, with some tools to help, maybe.” 

Mammon shudders at the promise in your tone. 

“But for now,” you trail kisses back up to his face, taking care to pepper them over his cheeks, nose, and forehead before finishing your thought. “It’s been a long, crappy day. And I just want you; here and now, if you’re up for it.” 

That had him sputtering. “You really think I’m gonna just pick ya up and run home, where any of my brothers can ruin the moment?”

You give him a small shrug. “Just wanted to make sure you were cool with, um…” you trail off, a little flustered to say it out loud. 

Mammon laughs, boasting, “Babe, I’m the second born of the Avatars of sin. I don’t care about some random yutz seein’ me have fun with- with ya.” 

It was cute, seeing him almost confess to you again as you were pressed against his dick; confident to bashful in a single sentence, and all you had to do was look and listen to him. He made it easy for you to tease him. 

You already had an idea forming as you stood, still straddling Mammon. He propped himself up on his elbows, transfixed to watch you temporarily step aside to kick off your shoes and shuck off your pants, giving a bit of a show as you slide the fabric- along with your underwear- past your hips. It’s satisfying to see him swallow. 

You’re kind enough to let mammon teach up and unbutton your top as you watch him; his eyes wide and pupils blown. 

When you kiss him again, you mean for it to be short and sweet, but Mammon’s greed gets the best of him, his hands raising to once again cradle your face, he can’t keep himself from trying to deepen the kiss as he runs his tongue along the seam of your lips. 

You yank at his hair and give him a bit of a bite. “Be good.” 

Mammon gives a bratty huff, clearly trying to cover a groan. “Fine, fine. Only ‘cuz I want ya to know just how good the great Mammon can be.” 

You kissed him again; short and sweet like you had wanted, before gently pushing him on the ground. “Now lay still and enjoy the show.” 

“Sh-show?” 

“As fast and quick as I want this to be, I don’t think I’m feeling indulgent enough to use your face as a throne at the moment.” Mammon made a pitiful noise that was half whimper, half growl. “Ah, ah, ah,” you chided, gently holding his wrists above his head. “Weren’t you just boasting how good you could be?” 

“Ya know I _can_.” 

“Then show your master, yeah?” You coaxed as you unbuttoned his coat, and then his uniform shirt; with how haphazardly done they were in the first place, it was easy. Spreading his shirt open felt almost akin to unwrapping a piece of candy. 

Mammon laced his fingers together, holding the position you’d placed him in as you now moved back for a better angle. 

“Yes, Master.” He murmured, flushed, wound tight, and pointedly slow, but obedient. Now wasn’t a time Mammon wanted to push you- not when you were already past the point poking was any fun.   
It was kind of you to indulge him like this; the least he wanted was to let you have some fun too. Lucifer be damned- he was a good demon when he needed to be.

You made it much easier for him to be good. “Master, wait.” If you really wanted it to be faster… 

With a pause, you peered back at Mammon; he hadn’t moved, and surprisingly, kept still and waited for you to acknowledge him before he continued. “Yes?” 

“There’s, in my backpack, there’s something that uh, might help.” With every word, Mammon’s face became more flushed, and he averted his gaze toward the back in question to avoid your questioning one. 

You leaned back forward a bit to kiss Mammon’s forehead once more, in thanks, before moving off of him to investigate his backpack. 

“It should be in the smallest front zipper pocket.” He suggested, trying to be helpful; and honestly, he was. It took you two seconds flat to find the small bottle of water based lube. You tried really hard not to laugh, you really did but- 

“Why do you have lube in the pocket of your school bag that’s easiest to access?” you ask as you walk back, settling back where you were- straddling Mammon’s waist. 

He sputters for what feels like a minute before settling on “Well! You already answered your own question didn’t ya?!” 

That barely restrained laugh of yours breaks loose, but any further protest from Mammon is silenced with the very loud uncapping of his gifted lube. His eyes go wide as dinner plates as he watches you shift and spread your legs a little farther to give yourself more room to work. 

You made it more fun to be good, too. He couldn’t help drooling at the sight of you bare from the waist down straddling his stomach, working yourself open with one finger, then two, three, four- using more lube when needed- all for him, and only for him.

You took your time with it, caressing your chest and tweaking a nipple, reaching down and circling nerve endings in such a way with your thumb that your toes curled. Never bothering to hold back any of the noises you drove out of yourself as you scissored your fingers, opening up your insides to Mammon’s appreciative view. 

Mammon didn’t hold back his pleased purr either, intense enough for you to feel the rumble roll through your spine and up your insides. Mammon wasn’t the only one twitching with anticipation at this point. 

Even with the low threat of someone walking by, he knew that ‘threat’ was next to nill. Bluntly put, crossing behind the school was a short cut that only worked if you were heading to the house of lamentation- plus there were too many nasty things in the nearby forest that would gladly dine on a lesser demon to make even an unlikely jaunt worth it. 

There was a deep irony to the fact that he was getting so much privacy from his brothers in the middle of a field, but Mammon wasn’t going to give it much thought. 

He was too caught up in the euphoria of you finally, finally turned around, giving the tent in his uniform slacks some attention; your hands easily unbuttoning his slacks and hooking under his waistband, pulling his clothes down just enough to let his dick spring free. He didn’t even bother muffling his whimper as the cool air caressed his twitching cock, already weeping with pre-cum. 

“Awh,” you cooed. Mammon’s hips jerked upwards as you trailed a finger, feather light, down the underside of his shaft. “Have you really been this pent up all day, or is this all just me?” You looked back over your shoulder, a grin curling your mouth. 

He turned his head to the side, trying to hide from your gaze again- though he kept his hands where they were. “You know the answer to that. Master.” He tacks the title on hurriedly when he feels you turn back to properly face him again. 

Mammon can’t help shutting his eyes in anticipation as he feels you lean forward, the slick from your sex dripping onto his abdomen. You’ve hardly touched him and he can barely keep from shuddering. 

He doesn’t expect the sweet kiss you give to his cheek, or to open his eyes to such a loving gaze; he felt so hot, coiled tight like a spring, but like he was putty that you could take in hand and do whatever you pleased with. 

As much as he and everything else pushed and poked at you, he knew you’d treat that putty with love and care; that the putty was utterly safe in your grasp. 

“You’re so good, thank you Mammon,” you praise, delight dripping from every word as you, maddeningly pepper his face with kisses. 

“C’mon,” he calls your name, plaintive and desperate, wiggling with impatience- Mammon knows you could ignore your own desire for ages- even if you want this to be fast- waiting this long _felt_ like ages. 

“Okay, okay,” you relent, taking him in hand and lining yourself up; it’s a bit of a stretch, but all the prep makes it feel- 

“So good”, you groan this as a strangled whine hisses through teeth, eyes locked on yours as you sink down inch by inch, eventually bottoming out. Letting yourself lean your bodyweight into it, you shift your hips and run you hands over Mammon’s chest. 

He can’t help canting his hips upward under the onslaught, though Mammon’s white knuckled grip still remains above his head, even as he causes you to cry out. He doesn’t even bother asking for forgiveness; he doesn’t need any, though his greed is getting the better of him. “Please,” he gasps, “can I?” 

You’re more than happy to give him what he wants- he asked so nicely after all. “Yes, please, touch me Mammon.” It’s a little hard giving a straight sentence as you’re bouncing on his dick, but you manage- albeit a little breathlessly. 

Your first gives a breathy, distinctly smug laugh in response. “That’s my human; so tight an’ hot an’ desperate for me.” 

“Well that’s a little b-,” Your protest was cut off as Mammon slams his hips high enough that you can feel it in your throat, and you don’t hold back even a bit as you scratch your nails down his chest, leaving ragged, stuttery trails in their wake from the brutal pace Mammon sets. You didn’t even draw blood. 

“That’s right, baby, the Great Mammon can take ya just fine.” Mammon’s purr is something that rumbles from his chest, but you can feel it reverberate through your insides like a verbal caress. “Keep on tryin’ to sit straight. I wanna see how long my human’ll last.” 

You struggle; you try, you really do, but you can’t keep your knees from buckling under Mammon’s onslaught. You fall forward, giving Mammon a new angle to work with as you push against him, the wet sound of skin against skin and your combined cries easy to hear over the devildom’s white noise. 

Mammon tangled his hands in your hair as his hand cradles the back of your skull; he wastes no time burying his face into the crook of your neck. It does nothing to muffle the moans you draw from him, but there’s something intoxicating about your scent, about being able to feel every sound drawn from your fragile throat.

The greedy part of him wanted to live in the space between your neck and shoulder- but he’d settle for a timeshare. For now.

“Am I doin’ good, Master?” Mammon asks, murmuring into your skin, as if he isn’t fucking you breathless. “Ya gotta tell me when I’m goin’ good or else-” he breaks off with a groan. He’s close. 

“Fuck, yes!” You manage. Tears are running down your cheeks from ecstasy, but you can’t tell just how fucked ragged you sound. “Yes, Mammon, so, so good! Every drag of your dick feels fucking amazing, I’m-” 

And suddenly, stars are exploding behind your eyes, and all you could do was cling to Mammon; between your desperate praise and the way you clenched around him, you pulled him over the edge as you came. 

Mammon threw his head back, but continued to watch as he fucked you both through your orgasms. His pace only slowed and eased until he was still after you were too over stimulated to speak. 

If he was being fair, he wasn’t feeling that verbal himself; but still, he tried. “Good?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, too tired and floaty from the after glow to articulate. 

Reverently, Mammon swept your hair from your face and cuddled you close. Part of him was looking forward to carrying you home; if only to see his brothers react to the aftermath of what you two had gotten up to. 

The fact of it was, one way or another, only Mammon could knock you out of your headspace when a bad day made you sink into yourself- his brothers knew that, but it would please him to show them to what extent that was true.

**Author's Note:**

> Last fic of this round of WIPs and of this year!!! WOOOOO!!   
> Frankly, I'm quite glad to be done with this fic, because it was really hard to write-and not just because I tackled writing a truly gender neutral reader (if I could have written that better please!! give me feedback!!), but because this idea involved both acknowledging and writing about things I struggle with, often. Like day to day often. Even if it's just a small slice of my issues lmao. I honestly can't tell if parts of this fic are a vent, or a self reprimand.   
> I thought about dropping this fic and working on WIPs meant for different rounds, but. ultimately if this fic is enjoyed or comforting to anyone that reads it, then it's worth posting. The act of creating is enough to let it exist lmao  
> Ultimately, I think the most important note I can leave off on is this: No part of you is unlovable or unworthy of love- especially if you relate in any capacity to the "you" of the fic. This is coming from someone who toned it the fuck down (tm). Ugly thoughts, or ugly thoughts paired with ugly actions on an incredibly shitty day do not make you beyond the love and support any human needs. All that matters is that from one moment from the next, you try to be better.   
> Happy new years!!! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the ride!!! If you wanna see more of my writing sooner than later, you can follow the tumblr linked in my profile, where I'll soon be taking requests after this is cross posted!!


End file.
